The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1887-03-12
THE DEAD PREACHER.

1t doesn't matter what the gen
eral drift of newspaper comment may
be upon the life and character OF Henry
Ward Beecher, whether it be favorable
or unfavorable or, indeed, whether his
death be made the subject of comment
at all. 1t wouldn't have mattered
whether single newspaper in this or
any other country lad even noticed his
death. Mr.. Beecher while living was
absolutely Indifferent to criticism, and,
being dead, his ears are forever closed
either to honor voice or to the soothing
words of fl lttery. There need be, there
fore, 10 nice distinctions drawn IN his
case between compliment and tiittery.
He is dead, and in dying, has taken
with him out of the world one of the
most phenomenal combinations OF traits
which ever made up the average char
acters of men. He was the son of
man-Lyman Beecher-who was the
father of more brains than any man IN
America, and the independence OF
character that marked the father de-
scended IN a large measure to all his
children. As a family, the Beechers
have made more intellectual impression
upon their times than any family of the
century. In mere literary influence
they suggest the brilliant careers OF the
Sherldans in England. But neither
the meteoric splendor OF Richard
Brinsiey Sheridan's eloquence resound-
ing through Westminster Hall, nor the
brilliant scintillations of his wit in the
"School for Scandal" dazzling all Eng
land for the day, can compare to the
deep and subtle influence exerted by
this family over their fellow men, and
particularly by that member of it who
has Just died. Did you ever see him?
If SO, you doubtless were struck by the
unmistakable physical signs OF a strong
and sensuous nature. Intellect and
animal marked this man in every TEA
ture. The combination is general
enough in every day life, and the rec
ord of the worlds greatest intellects
shows the results of the combination.
Napoleon, who in the diversity of his
intellectual powers was probably the
greatest man who ever lived, showed it
in a remarkable degree. Bacon with
more philosophic and analytic mind
than Bonaparte, was no less pronounc-
ed in his merely sensuous tendencies
and which his judicial record disclosed.
Bacon conquered the prejudices of his
times begot by his follies CD if his
crimes can be SO charitably designated,
by the sheer force of intellectual power
and the personal magnetism of grand
physical organization. When Thomas
Roscoe, the elegant historian of the
Medici, whose name will ever be aSso-
ciated with his native clty-Liverpool
and whose disastrous career as a
banker threw open his library OF rich
and rare of volumes for the monied
lliterates OF his day to inspect and
buy, they looked and wondered, and
still their wonder grew at the superior
magnitude OF the man, upon whom
misfortune had fallen. Washington
Irving speaks of them crowding through
his library like pigmies in the armory OF
a giant. When death &c S a giant Ill
telect like Henry Ward Beecher down,
pigmy penny liners may befoul his
memory, as Leigh Hunt ungratefully
did his friend Lord Byron's. But the
great masses of the people looking over
the heads of the pigmy dctractors see
only the giant form of Henry Ward
Beecher beyond.
So charity that is not pulled up, and
that vaunteth not itself, overlooks the
weaknesses to see the grander traits of
the dead hero of many an intellectual
battle field.
We ask heaven to pardon his faults,
and remember gratefully the great good
he did his fellow-man.